After Manhattan
by shaping-up-to-be-pretty-ood
Summary: A snippet into the time the Doctor and River spent together in the graveyard before he left for the cloud life.


"Why were you angry at me for fixing your wrist?" The Doctor's voice was nothing but a murmur. His eyes were shut as he drew patterns over his wife's bare shoulders with his fingertips, and his breathing was just now starting to return to a normal pace. They were both emotionally hurt far beyond anything making love would entirely fix, so he knew they should probably talk about what happened on the staircase.

"You wasted regeneration energy on me. That means the next time you regenerate you'll be sick, or not as healthy as you otherwise should be."

"It's not a _waste,_ River. Don't ever think that." He couldn't see it, but she was staring at the wrist they were speaking of. There were still tiny flecks of blood dotting the back of her hand.

"It would've healed naturally."

"It isn't that big of a deal. Honestly. Two regenerations ago I got my hand cut off, and still had enough residual energy to grow back a completely new one. I actually have problems with it being stuck with some of my Tenth's personality. And I was a cheeky bastard back then. But River, you gave up every regeneration you had just to save my life in Berlin. Despite the fact that you had been raised to kill me without a second thought. You had hardly known me at all but you saved my life by sacrificing the rest of yours."

"I told you, it's called marriage."

"Exactly. So when I give up a tiny fraction of regeneration energy to heal my wife's wrist when it's my fault she broke it in the first place, I don't call that a waste, I call that _love._" He kissed her head tenderly. "I love you."

"And I love you as well, sweetie. But I already have you running about after me in all of time and space, whenever I feel like jumping off a building or out of a doomed ship. I write on the side of the oldest cliff in the universe just to catch your attention when I could just as easily use my Vortex Manipulator to get into the TARDIS. I don't need you to do anything more for me."

The memory of the Library forced its way into his head, and he wished he _could_ do something more for her. "I _want_ to. It's not a matter of you needing me to, it's a matter of me being willing to do anything for you. You're my little Melody Pond, the girl I couldn't save from the worst childhood in the universe, and River Song, my wife and only person I've felt this way about in three hundred years."

"You feel guilty? That's why you love me?"

"No. I love you because you are fantastic. For reasons that I can't tell you yet and reasons that you should know without having to ask. I don't have to put up shields around you. Back... back in Manhattan, when I told you not to break your wrist... Not many people get to see me that angry. I keep it in check around everyone else. But you... Well, you're like the universe's best therapist, you know exactly how we can deal with each other's pain together."

"Psychopath, wife of the maddest man in the universe, last Time Lady, child of the TARDIS and now the greatest therapist in the universe? My repetoire is getting increasingly strange."

"You forgot archaeologist."

"Mm. So I did. It rather pales in comparison to the rest of them." She laid her hand over one of his hearts, the beating calming her racing mind.

They were silent for a few minutes, before the Doctor blurted out, "River, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He nearly choked on the words, the hand that had been on her back flying to cover his eyes. It didn't stop her from seeing the tears furiously streaming down his cheeks. Within seconds he was sobbing painfully, and the only thing River could do was let him cry against her chest and clutch her into a rib-crushing hug. She stroked his hair back out of his eyes and mumbled comforts to him, half in english and half in Gallifreyan. As much as it pained her, he needed this. He couldn't leave all the sorrow and anger bottled up inside him, it would mentally destroy him. She found herself silently crying along with him, until his violent shaking ceased and he fell asleep. She didn't necessarily want to sleep, out of fear of her nightmares (which would surely be amplified after watching her mother disappear at the hands of an Angel) but the TARDIS played some light instrumental music and made the atmosphere of the room just a tad warmer. With a teary smile, she turned over and settled herself into the curve of her husband's body, and he immediately and seemingly unconsciously wrapped her tightly in his arms.


End file.
